


Right Down to Your Sweetness

by setos_puppy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feeding, Hand Job, Lazy Sex, M/M, Nogitsune Stiles, This is going to end up jossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:05:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setos_puppy/pseuds/setos_puppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn't exactly sure why he came here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Down to Your Sweetness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1001cranes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001cranes/gifts).



> I AM OBSESSED WITH DARK STILES, SO MUCH. AUUUGGGGHHH. So I hope y'all like this thing that fell out of my brain.

It wasn’t where he expected to be, if he was being completely honest. Stiles had left the hospital with the intention of going home, passing out, maybe going to Scott’s, making it seem like he’d dazedly slept drove his way there. Innocent and sweet with his soft eyes and round cheeks. It was one of the great things about him, his off-putting face. Instead his car had turned off of the main drag to a six story walk-up in a part of town that mostly belonged to hipsters and artists. He walked up the flights to the fourth floor with uncanny ease and stood before a door and knocked. Waited. When Peter opened the door his mouth parted before his head tipped to the side and he smiled a bit, flashing his teeth as Stiles stepped over the threshold. 

Now, here they were, sprawled easily on Peter’s couch, Stiles slotted easily into the vee of Peter’s legs, neck bared to the elder male. 

“Have they figured it out yet?” Peter’s mouth is hot below his ear, as he bites at the skin where the others have been marked by the _oni_.

Stiles hums, tipping his chin to the side to chase Peter’s ouzo dripping fingers. It’s not the same as sake, but it pleases him all the same. “Of course they have, only because we left them clues large enough to drive a truck through.” His mouth wraps around three fingers, tongues sliding over them to trap them against the bottom of his jaw as he snaps his teeth shut and sucks. 

Peter laughs at the shock of pain, rolling his eyes as Stiles’ teeth and tongue roll over his reattached finger as he combs his other hand through Stiles’ hair. The apartment is dark save for lazy candlelight, leaving them draped on the overstuffed sofa and nursing a bottle of ouzo and raw calf liver. He wonders how his idiot of a nephew couldn’t see the awe-inspiring aura wrapped snugly around Stiles like a well tailored blanket. Oppressively large and grey-black with quicksilver eyes and five fanning tails. He can feel it if he concentrates enough, feel the staticky rub of them against his chest, prodding curiously over his exposed skin. 

Peter draws his saliva slick hand back, picks up a delicate, thin slice of red, iron rich meat and draws it through the bowl of alcohol set beside the plate and presses it lazily to Stiles’ mouth. His other hand moves languidly down Stiles’ body to cup his crotch through his jeans, enjoying the half-hard state of his cock, the joys of being seventeen. Stiles inhales sharply through his nose and there is a whipcrack sound of electricity arcing before he presses his hips up with an insistent noise. 

“This body needs the attention, if you’re going to tease you need to deliver.”

Peter grins, bites at the fleshy part of Stiles’ earlobe and pulls it into his mouth. “Surely you know I’m good at following through when I want to.” He draws his hand back from Stiles’ mouth and rucks up the shirt, slipping his hand underneath to pinch at his nipples before opening the khaki’s with his other hand. “So, want to tell me some of those wicked plans you have? Or would you like me to just talk?”

Stiles’ eyes hood as a hand wraps around his cock, he tips his head back, eyes the colour of mercury and mouth drawn into a wide, uncaring grin. “What would you do if you were us?”

Peter draws his hand down before bringing it back up, enjoying the full body shudder he pulls out of Stiles. “Kill the kitsune, obviously. Make it painful. Make it last.”

“She has strong allies.”

Peter clamps his mouth down on the line of Stiles’ neck, sucks until he can taste the blood as the bruise begins to form. “I’d be honoured to help you. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

A yip of a laugh draws out from Stiles, more animal than not and he rolls his hips up with Peter’s lazy jerks. “We are good on our bond, still, an outcast and a feeble bodied host.”

Peter’s fangs erupt and he scratches them over the skin, just a hint of a tease. “If I were myself again, I could make you stronger.”

Stiles sighs, relents easily when Peter’s teeth slide into his neck like butter and doubles up, spilling lazily into his palm. “We shall see. Perhaps we will keep you around as a pet once we take the kitsune.”

Peter holds back a snort, rubs his hand over the back of the couch and pulls his mouth away. Others, stupid, foolish others, would say that Stiles would be the pet, but Peter knows better than to mess with possessing creatures; they’re usually older than they look. 

“I might take you up on that.”

“For now you can feed us your poor sake substitute and continue to pleasure us.”


End file.
